


Such Great Heights

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>London is dark, grey and rainy. Nick thinks that Harry is the most incredible person he's ever met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such Great Heights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goingdownsinging](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingdownsinging/gifts).



> Dedicated to Angelique because, damnit, she brings me into shipping these things. I have no idea how she does it, but hey, here I am.
> 
> So much fluff. Started as something else, turned into an early Valentine's fic, hooray!

The first time Harry invites himself to Nick's flat, he spends most of the night sitting on the windowsill in Nick's bedroom, complaining about the light cast by the street lamp through the curtains. A few drinks later and he's sitting with his legs out of the window, kicking his bare feet against the rough concrete and still complaining, no, positively, _whining_ ,about the light. Nick finds it endearing, in a strange way. He ends up wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and tugging him backwards from the window, falling onto the floor in a mess of arms and legs and breathless giggling. Harry elbows Nick in the chest a few times in the struggle, Nick tangles his fingers in Harry's hair, and they roll around on the floor for the best part of an hour, just laughing, laughing, laughing, until it hurts, until their eyes burn, until Nick presses his fingers against the back of Harry's knee and makes him squeal with laughter and protest. When they get tired of play fighting, they both get up and agree to call it a night. Nick insists that Harry stays at his place. Harry agrees without putting up much of a fight, falling asleep in his jeans next to Nick, curled into the older man's side with an arm slung nonchalantly over Nick's hips. He snores a little, but Nick thinks it's more of a snuffling sound than a thundering steam train rumbling through the room, so he decides he can cope with it. (Maybe, just maybe, he finds it cute.)

* * *

It isn't long before Harry and Nick become inseparable. Nick sometimes compares Harry to the extra leg he didn't know he needed, which inevitably ends up with one of them making a 'third leg' joke and small sniggers of laughter shared between just the two of them. It takes even less time for them to end up in bed together. Not doing anything in particular, just sleeping close, warm, boneless and naked together. Harry traces circles over the flat expanse of Nick's chest while Nick plants kisses every now and then to the top of Harry's head, fingers thumbing through the younger man's curly hair. It isn't sexual, not at all, because the idea of, _that_ ,makes Nick feel a little like Jimmy Saville if he's honest, but it's... Nice. Comfortable. Harry sometimes spends hours at a time awake, watching Nick sleep, watching as the corners of his mouth twitch into small smiles and the laughter lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle, fighting every urge in his body to clamber across Nick's body and kiss him until his lips burn, because he knows that Nick has to be up early for work. The more time they spend together, the closer they become. The more one needs the other, and vice versa.

Harry starts taking Nick's favourite t-shirts when he goes away for tour or press weeks, making a point of wearing them whenever he has half an hour to Skype with Nick. Nick always scolds Harry and jokes with him not to let any groupies take the shirts away, but he says it from behind a wide grin every single time.

* * *

On a rare week that Harry has off from doing anything, Nick insists on taking him out every night, making sweeping, grand, romantic gestures like buying flowers for Harry and cooking him dinner. They sit too close for it to be 'safe' in public places, slipping their hands together underneath tables and tangling their fingers together, Nick's hand finding Harry's thigh too often, Harry's fingers pushing Nick's quiff back up when it threatens to fall onto his face. Pictures and rumours circulate, and they both joke about them. Harry worries, though. He knows how fickle the music business is and how much this could damage his perceived image, but when he's tangled around Nick in the bed where his body is slowly making its own shallow dip in the mattress next to the one that Nick fits into so perfectly, he can't bring himself to care.

One night, when they're lying together in perfect, still silence, Nick takes a deep breath and kisses Harry, like he has done hundreds and thousands of times before, but this time it feels... Different. Harry doesn't know why, but he pulls away and leans up on his elbow. Nick chases the younger man's lips with his own and smiles in that dopey, puppy dog way he's always done when he's tired. He says a soft 'I love you', and it's a first for Harry, so at first he lets his shoulders shake with a giggle as he falls back down onto the bed, instantly pulled against Nick's broad chest. Harry whispers it back, once he's got over the shock of it and the crimson on his cheeks.

* * *

A while later, four months to be exact, Nick excitedly texts Harry while he's still on the road, telling him that he can't wait for Harry to get home. This in itself is nothing unusual, Harry is always glued to his phone so he can reply to Nick at any and all given times. Nick's got into trouble at work more than once for texting Harry while he's in the booth, because it makes that annoying ' _ditditdit ditditdit_ ' sound through the microphone and it makes Fincham angrier than most other things. Matt thinks that Nick actually only does it to get a rise out of him.

It's almost Christmas, and they're missing each other terribly.

* * *

When Harry gets home for Christmas, after the obligatory visits to family and friends, he takes himself off to London again. Him and Nick are spending Christmas together, just the two of them. No one else. No distractions. Just the whole of Christmas day spent lying in bed, cooking, drinking and probably spending too much time playing bad board games. On Christmas eve, Nick takes Harry out to a small pub around the corner from his flat - or was it, _their_ ,flat now? - that they've somehow managed to miss the tens of other times they've been out. It's quiet in there, festive music playing quietly and few other people in the pub. They curl up together on a sofa tucked up a corner, both nursing mulled wine and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Harry and Nick openly hold hands and kiss for the first time, and the night ends with Harry sat in Nick's lap, Nick playing with his hair lazily. They fall into bed together and sleep well into the afternoon.

* * *

The first time they fight, it's about something stupid. So stupid that neither of them really knows what it is, in fact. There's a lot of shouting and voices cracking, angry words said in haste and then tears on both sides. They sit in separate rooms for a few hours, until Nick hears Harry sniffling and goes to comfort him, to kiss it better like he has done so many times previously. He grazes his lips to Harry's face and pulls the shorter man into his lap, rocking Harry until the tears stop flowing from his eyes. They kiss and make up soon after and spend the night folded carefully around each other like they have done every night Harry's been home for nearly a year.

Nick thinks to himself that it's been eleven months, two weeks, three days and four hours since Harry first invited himself around. He doesn't mind one bit.

* * *

The next tour Harry goes on, they spent their time talking on the phone every five minutes. The tour ended with three hours on Skype pining for each other as Harry waited for a flight back from some unknown city. Nick notices that Harry's wearing the sweatshirt he gave him before he left, and he smiles fondly. Harry reaches his hand out to touch the screen separating them. If he closes his eyes, he can feel Nick's skin underneath his fingers. The last hour of their call is spent talking about the future. They laugh as they talk about the future - about kids and dogs. Harry jokes that he'd never marry Nick, and something inside Nick physically cramps up at the words. He smiles anyway.

* * *

Valentines day rolls around too quickly. Nick barely has time to think before it's there, before he realises he's barely planned anything. He spends the fourteenth fretting and shooing Harry out of their flat so he can get something together. He haphazardly bakes and ices a cake, because he can't think of anything else to do, and then he has a brainwave. He finishes the cake and calls Harry to tell him he's free to come back whenever, to which Harry jokes that if Nick isn't naked with his dick drizzled with chocolate syrup, he's going to be pissed off.

Nick presents Harry with the cake when he arrives back home and Harry doesn't laugh, or smirk, or snigger, despite the icing being messy and misspelled. He just grins, genuinely, bobbing from foot to foot. Nick reaches over and ruffles Harry's hair with his free hand. They sit and eat cake all night, both feeling too sick to move off the sofa after dinner which Nick managed to throw together from whatever they had in the fridge. Nick manages to lever himself up off the sofa and Harry does the same. Nick contemplates how he's going to do what he plans to do, then he realises something and grins to himself, spiriting himself away to their bedroom for five minutes before joining Harry in the shower.

By now, Nick knows Harry's every movement by heart. He's studied and watched and appreciated every damn move that Harry makes for the past year and a bit, down to the way he sleeps with his back to Nick's chest and his one hand curled underneath his pillow, his other tangled over Nick's where it always rests on Harry's hip. Throughout their shower, Nick grins about his plan and shrugs every time Harry asks what he's smiling about, just pushing the other against the cool wall of the shower and kissing him firmly.

When they actually get into bed properly, they've showered again and Nick has almost forgotten about the box hidden underneath Harry's pillow, feeling too much like jelly has replaced his bones and his head. Harry reacts the way that Nick had hoped he would: slides his hand underneath the pillow, frowns and shoves his hand around for a good three or four minutes before producing the box with a raised eyebrow. He says, 'Oh, God, Nick...' but his tone is so soft, so quiet, that Nick isn't remotely worried when he clambers up onto one knee, chuckling because he's naked and it's hard to keep his balance on the mattress like that. Nick gently takes the box from Harry and flicks the box open with a wide grin, revealing a slim, simple, silver band. There's an infinity symbol etched into the inside of the band, and Nick quickly explains out of nerves that it leaves a little imprint on your finger if you wear it long enough, and that he knows Harry can't flaunt it, so he's happy for him to wear it on his right hand, and...

Harry sits up and kisses him, wraps his arms around Nick's shoulders and says, quietly but confidently into Nick's ear, 'Shut up. Of course I will. Of course I will.'


End file.
